


The Pizza One

by taylor_tut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Caretaking, Gen, Modern Era, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Like four people requested an AU where Lance is a pizza delivery man and delivers a pizza to the other paladins (modern, college AU) while running a very high fever. They make sure he gets taken care of.





	The Pizza One

The doorbell rang while Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, and Keith were just about to start playing Moulin Rouge. 

“I’ve got it,” Pidge offered, standing and taking five dollars from each extended hand. “Perfect.”

“You’ve got five for the tip?” Hunk asked. Pidge nodded and trotted to the door. 

When she opened it, the delivery boy standing in front of her looked red in the face and slightly unsteady, but the first thing she noticed about him was his scraped cheek. 

“You’re bleeding,” she informed. The boy–he looked about 18 or 19–looked sluggishly down at his hands and flashed a sheepish smile. 

“Oh,” he croaked with a raspy voice, “yeah, I just tripped over the curb when I was getting the pizzas out of the passenger’s seat. I’m okay, though. It’ll be $22.50?”

“Keith!” Pidge shouted, noticing that the kid in the doorway winced at the volume of her voice, “Where do you keep your Band-Aids?”

Lance heard rustling in the other room and someone approaching, and finally saw a black-haired young man in a red hoodie turn the corner, looking concerned and exasperated. 

“What did you do?” Keith asked. 

“I didn’t,” Pidge objected, “It’s for… uh… what’s your name?”

“Lance,” the delivery boy replied. “Really, it’s fine, you don’t have to–” 

Keith shook his head. “Is it just your cheek?” 

Lance hesitated. “My palms,” he admitted. 

“You can’t keep delivering pizzas all night with bloody palms. Let us patch you up. It’ll only take a minute.” 

“Plus, you don’t know what kinds of bacteria could have gotten in those cuts. You need Neosporin,” Pidge added. 

Lance nodded dazedly and followed Keith, surrendering the pouch full of pizzas to Pidge, who set them down on a table near the door. 

“What’s taking so long?” Shiro asked, but as if to answer his question, Keith led Lance past the doorway of the living room on his way to the bathroom. 

“Lance?” Shiro called, standing and following them. Keith sat Lance down on the seat of the toilet as he rummaged through his medicine cabinet for bandaids and antibiotic cream. Lance coughed wetly a few times before responding.

“Oh, Shiro,” he smiled weakly, “hey.”

“You know each other?” Keith asked. 

“Yeah, he’s in the econ class I TA for,” Shiro replied. “I thought I told you to go home and rest today.”

“Couldn’t find someone to cover my shift,” Lance admitted, shrugging. “It’s not that bad. I’ve only got an hour left, anyway.”

“Why did you send him home?” Keith asked. 

“He’s sick,” Shiro worried. 

“I’m feeling better now,” Lance lied. His voice was thick with congestion and he was still shivering despite that he was no longer outside. Keith turned around with band aids, Neosporin, and a thermometer.

“Under your tongue,” he commanded, handing the digital thermometer to Lance. The delivery boy began to stand, looking displeased. 

“Look, you’ve been really nice and all, but I’m fine, and I should be getting back to work.” As he took a few steps toward the door, his vision tumbled just as it had when he’d stepped out of his car, and he found himself once more falling forward in a dizzy heap–but this time, Shiro’s arms caught him. 

“Jesus,” Shiro muttered, “you feel hot. If I’d have known you were this sick in econ, I’d have walked you to health services myself.”

“M’fine,” Lance slurred, still reeling a bit. His eyes weren’t focusing. That made him malleable under Shiro and Keith’s grasp as they sat him once more on the toilet seat and put the thermometer lightly under his tongue. Keith rubbed neosporin on his hands with a q-tip while Shiro read the results after the beep.

“So 103.7 is fine now?” Shiro asked sarcastically. “I’m calling your boss.” Lance looked panicked, and his breathing quickened.

“Shiro, please don’t–”

“Lance,” Keith soothed, “it’s fine. Your boss will understand. If you’re sick, you’re sick. It happens to everyone.”

“She needs me,” Lance objected, weakly fighting Keith off. “If I’m not there, she’s got to run the store alone. She’s going to be so, so mad.”

“Mad?” Keith asked. “For what?”

“Because I couldn’t–I didn’t–I was supposed to–” He wasn’t finishing any of the sentences, but each one was punctuated with a desperate, hitching breath. When Keith looked in his eyes, he saw that the young man was crying. 

“Oh, shit,” Keith muttered. He really wasn’t good with this sort of thing. “Hey, it’s okay. No one is going to be mad at you.”

“What’s going on in here?” Hunk asked from the doorway. Hunk. Thank God. He’d know what to do.

“Lance is worried that his boss is going to get mad at him for not going back to work with a fever of nearly 104.”

Hunk’s face softened.

“I can’t afford to get fired,” Lance panicked. “The coffee shop alone won’t be enough to cover the cost of classes.”

“You work two jobs and go to school?” Keith asked. “Jesus, no wonder you’re so sick; you’re probably exhausted, yeah?”

Lance hesitated, but finally shrugged.

“When was the last time you had a day off?” Hunk asked. 

Lance took so long to think about the answer to that question that it was basically an answer in itself. 

“Called your boss, told her what’s going on,” Shiro announced, reentering the room. “She said that she hopes you feel better and that if you’re still sick tomorrow, to stay home.”

“See?” Keith smiled, “No one’s mad at you.”

Lance nodded, wiping away tears with his freshly-bandaged hands. “Thank you,” he said, “really. I’ll get out of your hair now.” Keith put his hands on Lance’s shoulders when he moved to get up.

“You’re not driving anywhere until your temperature is below 102,” he asserted. “Come on. You like Moulin Rouge?” Lance nodded and allowed himself to be half-carried into the living room by Hunk. They made him comfortable outstretched on the couch with pillows and a blanket. 

“No ibuprofen allergies, right?” Keith asked, handing Lance two pills and a cup of water when he shook his head. “This should help bring the fever down. We’ll check it again after the movie, but if you start to feel worse, just say something and we can check it sooner. You’re sort of toeing the line of ‘emergency room’ territory.”

“Don’t–” Lance objected, but Keith shook his head. 

“I figured,” he admitted, “so we won’t take you to the hospital; not yet. But if it climbs over 104, you’re going.”

“You really don’t have to do this,” Lance said. “I can call a cab or something.”

“Well, do you have anyone at home that would take care of you?” Pidge asked.

“I live alone,” Lance admitted. 

“Then you’re stuck with us for a while,” Hunk smiled. Lance nodded, surrendering to his fate. “Warm enough?”

Lance nodded, but he was shivering underneath the blankets. Hunk sighed and reached for a third blanket to put over the kid.

“You know, no one’s going to be upset with you for needing things once in a while,” he informed.

Lance nodded. 

“Now, honestly, how do you feel?” Hunk asked. Lance considered for a moment, seeming hesitant and nervous.

“Tired,” he finally settled upon. He looked a lot more than tired, but it was a start. 

“Then take a little nap,” Hunk instructed. “It’s okay.”

“You won’t tell my boss?” Lance asked deliriously, and Shiro’s heart broke.

“It’s safe with us, buddy,” Shiro reassured him, “You’re safe with us.” Lance seemed to relax a bit at that, finally closing his eyes and falling into a fevered rest. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Pizza, Pasta and some comfort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10992555) by [SerenePhenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenePhenix/pseuds/SerenePhenix)




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